That's Why It's Called A Favor
by susieq666
Summary: This little tale is probably for dog-lovers only. It might be called 'The Further Adventures of Sebastien'. Horatio takes on more than he expects when he does a favor for Cecile.
1. Chapter 1

THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Chapter 1

I'm fed up. Really depressed. I've spent the last two days in bed, coughing and sweating with a prime dose of flu. I'm bad at illness, I know that. Actually, I usually try to ignore it. But this… I don't know if it's an age thing, but it's knocked me out. And I had an unpleasant memory of the last time – some years ago – that I tried to ignore flu. I ended up wrecking the car. Anyway, this was worse.

I hadn't had any visitors. Not that I want sympathy – it's just one of those things. There were a couple of things where I could have done with some help, but Eric had gone down with flu a day before I did. And Cecile… Well, she was in France… This fact had given me an additional problem – Seb.

* * *

(Five days earlier…)

I was having dinner with Cecile. Pleasant, as always. She was a good cook, and we enjoyed each other's company. Sometimes we enjoyed more than that. It was a relationship I cherished – selfishly, I suppose. What I wanted, when I felt like it. No demands made on me. It suited me – I had enough demands at work. Cecile had always seemed to understand this. In fact, I believe she understood me better than anyone I've ever known, but then, she had been my psychiatrist once. I believe we love each other. A quiet sort of love…

One thing I knew – she loved Seb. Sébastien, her little terrier. He was a character. A rescue dog, incredibly intelligent. I – who'd never been known to like dogs – was quite fond of him. He seemed to like me too. He'd sit on my lap and gaze into my eyes; Cecile said he loved me, but I always wondered what he was actually thinking.

That's where he was that evening, as we sat on the balcony, drinking coffee. Cecile seemed quiet – she had been all evening.

"Is anything wrong?" I asked at last.

"Not with me."

"What then?"

"My daughter… Her husband's left her."

"I'm sorry." I suppose I had my 'it happens' voice, because she looked at me sharply.

"She called me. She seems devastated. I don't think she expected it at all. She's on her own…"

"What about your granddaughter?"

"She's away at university."

"Is she? I always pictured a little girl…"

Cecile laughed. "Do your sums, lieutenant. Jacqueline – my daughter - is forty-one. She's been married for… nineteen years. I think that's why she's so shocked. She thought they'd got past the difficult parts." She hesitated. "I think I should go to France – just for a week or two."

I nodded, quite failing to see the obvious problem.

"I feel she needs some support," she added. "I've never been a very attentive mother, as you know… But…"

"You don't need to justify it to me."

"No, but I need to ask you a favor."

"Okay." For some reason, it didn't click that the 'favor' was sitting on my knee at that very moment.

"Sébastien…"

"Can't you find a kennel with space?"

"You know how he hates kennels."

Then it clicked. "Oh no, Cecile! I've got to work. I can't look after him."

"You couldn't take him to work? He's very well-behaved now."

"I'm sure." I softened a little at her anxious face. "We can't have dogs in the lab. We can't risk contamination – dust, hair… It's actually against the rules."

"I thought you'd say that."

"I'm sorry."

"So…" She hesitated, while I frowned. "I've found a dog day-care place… They'll take him from eight till six. So I wondered if you…"

"Would have him overnight?"

"Yes. And drop him off and collect him…"

I was silent. I realised she expected me to refuse, and her little friend would be consigned to a kennel. "Couldn't you take him with you?" I said, rather desperately.

"I _could_, in theory. I got him a passport months ago, just in case. But, Horatio, ten hours or more in a crate, in the hold? Then all the way back? I can't do that to him." She reached over to stroke the dog, who looked at her, then back at me. With that look…

I wasn't keen. My working hours are odd, and unpredictable. But I was aware it was the first time Cecile had really asked anything of me, so I nodded. "All right."

"You're sure?"

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't."

"And you will take care of him?"

I laughed then. "Of course I will. He can come on my evening run – you know how he likes the beach. When are you going?"

"Tomorrow."

"Saturday…"

"Yes. You're not working, are you? Because the day-care doesn't begin till Monday."

"No, I'm not working. I'll come over and take you to the airport."

"No need. I've already arranged my parking." I was used to her independence, and didn't argue.

"So I'll take him tonight?"

She nodded, and I saw she had tears in her eyes.

"Hey, Cecile…" I touched her knee. "He'll be fine, I promise."

"I just haven't left him, since I had him."

"I know. I'll care for him as if he's my… child." I meant it too.

She sniffed a chuckle. "I know. Be careful of your balcony – he could jump."

"I'll be careful. I hope this dog place is okay."

"So do I. It was recommended to me."

"I'll put my badge on when I take him in. That usually… reminds people of their responsibilities."

"You're shameless, Horatio," she laughed.

I wouldn't disagree. That badge has uses you wouldn't dream of.

Anyway, she gave me a list of instructions, a parcel of dog food and toys, bid Seb an emotional goodbye, me a rather less emotional one, and I went home with a terrier on the front seat. He seemed a bit bemused, but not unhappy. So far.

* * *

He seemed fine. We enjoyed several walks over that weekend. He joined me for a run on the beach. When I sat on the balcony, I kept him loosely on a long leash. When I went to bed, he settled down beside me, sort of tucked behind my knees. I'd intended to ban him from the bedroom, but he had other ideas, and, truthfully, the feel of that solid warm little body was quite pleasant. He snored a bit, but he didn't disturb me. I took my duties seriously – I couldn't imagine anything worse than having to tell Cecile that we'd had an accident. She called on the Sunday. Ostensibly, it was to reassure me that she'd arrived safely; we both knew she was really checking up on Seb.

On Monday, dressed for work – yes, complete with gun and badge – I delivered Seb to Furry Friends Doggy Day-Care. He never gave me a backward glance as he trotted in to find some new friends.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Chapter 2

I brushed one or two stray hairs off my suit and went to work. The lab was unusually quiet. There were ongoing cases, but nothing new. I surmised that the criminal element was suffering the flu epidemic too – well, good luck to them, I hoped it was bad! There was a message for me that Eric was off sick. That raised my eyebrows – he was even more of a 'tough it out' sort of guy than I was. He was probably a bit fitter too, not to mention younger. Calleigh didn't work Mondays anymore, so I had a depleted team of Ryan, Walter and Natalia, and some techs. Still, them plus me… We'd manage. And it _was _quiet – I went to the office to catch up on some admin, which I hated.

I put off getting stuck into it. I made a coffee and looked out of the window. I found myself wondering how Seb was getting on. To be truthful, I was half-expecting a call, either from Furry Friends, to say he was causing trouble, or from his mistress, to make sure he was okay. Although, the dog place had seemed very professional. They had told me they had facilities to separate him, if he needed 'time out'. They also had webcams. I resisted the urge to check up on him – I am not a dog-lover (or so I kept telling myself). Still, I thought I'd tell Cecile about the cameras, provided that Seb was behaving himself and hadn't been expelled.

I realised I was spending an abnormal amount of time thinking about a dog – it really felt like having responsibility for someone's child. I mentally kicked myself for being so soft, sat down and made myself get on with some work.

The day passed slowly. My concentration wasn't great and I was bored. I wandered through the labs, but everyone was busy, and I knew I was only interrupting. I went to find Frank, looking for entertainment – and a lunch companion – but he was out in the field. I went out to buy a sandwich and returned to work.

By late afternoon, I'd got a mild headache, and my throat felt scratchy. I refused to think of it as the onset of flu. More likely a reaction to sitting at a computer screen in an air-conditioned office all day. But I signed out early – for me – and went to see how Seb had fared. I visited a drugstore on the way, to stock up on Tylenol – just in case.

At Furry Friends, my tentative question, "Has he been good?" was met with a beaming smile.

"Perfect. He sure likes the ladies, doesn't he?"

"So I'm told. So no trouble?"

"No, although we did put him on his own for an hour after lunch – simply to give everyone a rest. I'll get him for you."

He seemed delighted to see me, though a little reluctant to leave his new-found friends. "You can see them tomorrow," I told him, trying to ignore an increasingly sore throat.

That dog was tired. Between humping bitches and sniffing butts – or whatever else terriers got up to – he'd worn himself out. I changed into sweats, ready to take him out. Just for a walk – I didn't feel up to a run – and was surprised and relieved when he didn't really want to go. I fed him and then he fell asleep, on his back, on the sofa. I sent a picture of him to Cecile, then thought he looked as if he'd died, lying there with his feet in the air, and quickly added a note explaining he was simply dog-tired.

I thought about my own dinner and realised I really didn't feel hungry. My head was throbbing and I felt shivery and a bit sick. Still in denial that it was flu, I swallowed a couple of pills and settled down beside Seb. Even if it _was_ flu, I had to get on top of it. With Eric away, and Calleigh part-time, it was going to be a desperately short-staffed lab if I fell by the wayside…

At about nine, still without having eaten, I took Seb out for a quick visit to the beach opposite, then topped up my pharmaceutical level and went to bed.

* * *

I slept well, so I was profoundly disappointed to wake up feeling like the living dead. I sneezed about ten times, each sneeze sending a jab of pain through my head. Seb was fascinated. While I held my head and groped for a handkerchief, he danced up to me, his mouth lolling open, a silly grin on his face.

"Piss off, dog," I said – croaked. "Not in the mood."

He obviously hadn't learnt that command. He barked at me instead.

I repeated, "Piss off! Go away! Allez!" and pushed him off the bed. I lay back and groaned.

This was not good. My head hurt, my throat hurt, I felt sick, my arms and legs ached, and I was sticky with sweat. In fact, you name it, it hurt. No longer in denial, I had to admit to real, full-blooded flu. Which I had to beat…

I turned to my cure-all – fresh air. I got carefully to my feet, pulled on yesterday's sweats, put a leash on Seb, and went out. It was raining lightly – a sort of misty drizzle – but I thought it might actually be refreshing. We walked, as usual, over the rough ground to the beach, and down to the shoreline. Seb wanted to be released for a run, but I didn't dare. I was in no state either to call him, or chase after him.

I knew almost straight away that I wasn't going to feel better anytime soon. I felt distinctly unsteady. My vision wavered a bit. True, the rain cooled my hot skin, but that soon turned to shivering, so we didn't stay out long. I'd try more pills and a hot shower, and see how we went from there. I _hated_ being ill! But I still reckoned I was tough enough to ignore it, if I had to. So what, things hurt, and I was developing a racking cough, but I could live with it… at least, I thought I could… I gave Seb his breakfast, the pungent smell of dog food doing nothing for my appetite. I left him eating, and walked into the bedroom, pulling my wet clothes off as I went. The bed, unmade and sweaty as it was, looked horribly inviting. I turned away and went into the bathroom.

I turned the shower on, and looked in the mirror. I didn't only feel like the living dead, I kind of looked that way too. White skin, red eyes… you get the picture. I reached for the Tylenol bottle, and fumbled with the child-proof cap.

The wave of nausea took me by surprise. I just about reached the toilet in time.

There's something rather unnerving about being watched by a dog, when you're chucking up. I caught sight of him, sitting in the doorway, head cocked, intent on what I was doing. I prayed silently, 'Don't come near me,' and tried to ignore him. I'm sure he would have shrugged if he could, but he turned and went out. I rested my head on the cold porcelain and closed my eyes.

Eventually, I got to my feet, turned off the shower, and staggered back to bed.

"I give in." I don't know whether I said it out loud. Once my head had stopped spinning, I reluctantly reached for my cell.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Chapter 3

I called Furry Friends, leaving a message that we wouldn't be there today. Then I phoned Calleigh. It was still very early, but I knew she'd be up and about.

"Horatio?" She sounded surprised, but, as usual, bright and chirpy.

"Hi, Cal. Sorry to call so early…"

"Not a problem. You sound really rough, boss. You okay?"

"No, I'm not." There, I'd admitted it. "You're working today, right? Thing is, Eric's off, and I think I'm going to be too."

"Flu?"

"Yep, badly. It's very quiet at work. Or it was yesterday."

"You stop worrying," she said firmly. "We'll manage. Look, Horatio, if things heat up, I can get one or two off the night shift. We'll be okay, I mean it. Please don't worry about us."

I wish I hadn't had a coughing fit just then, but I did. I suppose it made the point!

"Are you in bed?"

I smiled. "What sort of question is that? Yes, I am, now. I tried getting up – it wasn't totally successful."

"Do you need anything?"

"Absolutely not. I don't want to pass my germs on to anyone."

"Come on, boss… Flu germs are everywhere at the moment. If you need me to come over…"

"Honestly, I'll be okay." I wanted to ask her to keep me updated. I wanted to ask her to let me know if she heard from Eric. I wanted… But if I said any more, or tried to concentrate for any longer, I was going to throw up again. I said goodbye, closed my eyes, and took a few careful breaths. There was a thump as Seb landed on my bed. I didn't move. I was too intent on trying not to vomit. He settled down beside me, the nausea receded, and I dozed off.

* * *

I awoke only when Seb put his paws on my arm. My skin felt sore, and his claws were sharp.

I murmured, "Stop it," without opening my eyes, but then I heard him whining and scrabbling at the doors to the balcony, and woke up properly.

"I suppose you want to go out…" Having woken up, I needed a pee too. And a drink – my throat felt raw.

Very cautiously, I got up and pulled on a bathrobe. I wondered whether to risk just leaving him on the balcony, but my promise to Cecile came back to me. Anyway, the thought of that little dog splattered on the concrete below was too awful to contemplate. I wasn't sure he'd pee on the balcony anyway, since he'd almost certainly been trained not to. I put a long leash on him and slid the door open. It was still raining, the rain blowing on to the floor at the far side.

"Go on, be quick," I said encouragingly. Seb looked at me doubtfully, but wandered over to the wet area. He stood up to try to see over the rail – wanting to go out properly. He looked as if he was going to try for a jump. I pulled him back quickly. "No. Just do it. Please…"

Fortunately, being male, he had a predisposition to cock his leg on things, and my plant tubs fulfilled the purpose. He trotted back in, and I closed the door. "Good lad…" He was going to go home one confused dog – I'd have to tell Cecile how I'd undone her training. And I knew I'd have to go out with him later. Even if he could be persuaded to poop on the balcony, I'd either have to clean up quickly – which might finish me, in my present state – or have the neighbors complaining. Miami's a hot place…

I took some more pills, fetched a jug of water, and went back to bed. I was surprised how good Seb was about it. Yesterday he'd been rushing around with other dogs; today he seemed content – or at least resigned – to a day without exercise, curled up on the bed with me. I hate to admit it, but I found his presence quite comforting. Being ill is a lonely business. I meant what I'd said to Calleigh, about spreading germs, but it didn't mean I was enjoying any part of being this inactive. My eyes and head hurt too much to read, or watch television, so I mostly slept.

* * *

I waited until it was dark to take Seb over the road. If I was going to fall over or throw up, I'd rather not be seen. I didn't quite dare go out wearing just a bathrobe either, so I did get dressed… kind of. I felt horrible. My legs hardly worked. I was dizzy and sick and shaky. Let's say I felt very sorry for myself. I got as far as the edge of the beach, and sat down, leaning against a palm tree. The rain had stopped, but the ground was damp, which was not a nice sensation. I took a risk, let Seb off the leash, and dropped my head to my knees. I wanted so much to be back in bed.

After a while, I looked up. By the thin moonlight, I could see Seb prancing around at the waterline. I closed my eyes again. The next time I looked, he was galloping towards me, carrying something. He presented me with a small dead crab, and stood back, his stump of a tail wagging furiously.

"Gee, thanks, Seb," I murmured, before starting to cough. By the time I'd controlled myself, he was out of my reach, heading back to the water.

I wondered what on earth I was doing, risking pneumonia, sitting on a cold wet beach in the middle of the night, with a temperature of about a hundred and ten – all right, it wasn't, but it certainly wasn't normal. I tried to call the dog, but managed only a hoarse croak. I wanted to die. If I'd known what would happen when I offered my dog-sitting services… But I couldn't exactly blame Cecile, or Seb, or anyone really. Just one of those things… I still wanted to die.

Suddenly, it seemed someone else might share that wish. I felt the sharp point of a knife digging into the back of my exposed neck.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Chapter 4

I froze. Unfortunately, I didn't experience my usual adrenalin rush. Pathetically, for just a moment, I thought, 'Get it over with'.

"Stand up, mister. Slowly."

As if I could do anything else. I got to my feet with difficulty. He was a young scruffy individual, in a hoodie. From what I could see of his face, he looked pale and scrawny.

As steadily as I could, considering my failing voice, I said, "I've got nothing on me. No cell, no money."

He didn't believe me and reached for my pockets, holding the blade, a small pocket-knife, against my chest. I was glad I had my keys hidden in my hand. He seemed confused to find my pockets empty.

I coughed in his face. All right, I don't like being threatened. "All you'll get from me is the flu."

"What you doing out then?"

"Exercising the dog, not that it's your business."

"Can't see no dog."

I pointed to the leash on the ground. "Dog leash. See? Now fuck off, before any harm's done." Honestly, a skinny youth and a small knife wouldn't normally have given me any trouble. A quick punch, or a knee in the groin, and I'd have had him. Which shows just how bad I was feeling.

He obviously didn't like being threatened either. He raised the point of the knife to my throat. "Where d'you live then?"

"Think I'm going to tell you that?" I suppose I was slightly concerned. A small blade can still do a lot of damage. I tried to think how to get out of the situation, but my brain really wasn't functioning. And I couldn't swing a decent punch to save my life. 'Save my life', hah! I tried reason. "Look, pal, nothing's happened yet. Just go. You're really not going to get what you want from me." I had a strong feeling he was high on something, and my logic was falling on deaf ears. We had a stand-off. Worse, I wasn't that far from passing out – I'd got cold, and stiff, and I needed to lie down.

I hadn't reckoned on my little bodyguard. A small brown and white demon came barreling out of the gloom. He locked his jaws round the youth's arm, and bit, hard. The knife fell to the ground. The man yelled and tried to shake him off, but the dog held on. My assailant used his other hand to try and pry him off, but terriers, I learnt then, aren't easily deflected. But he did let go briefly, and the youth scrambled to get away. He stumbled, and Seb was on him again – his leg this time, biting and trying to shake him like a rat.

"Call him off, mister!"

"Sorry, didn't hear you…"

"Call him off! He's going to kill me!"

I was tempted to let him carry on a little while longer. Anyway, I wasn't at all sure he'd obey me. I wasn't his owner, I hadn't got much of a voice, and I didn't know if you could distract a maddened terrier once he was latched on to his prey. Still, it was me he'd decided to defend. Me, he'd thought was in trouble. Somewhere, I remembered hearing that walking away sometimes worked. I turned my back on the scene and took a couple of unsteady paces. "Come on, dog, we're going. Leave!"

I was relieved when I glanced back and Seb was, reluctantly I thought, coming towards me. The youth scrambled to his feet and ran away, limping. I think he was crying. I bent down and petted Seb. "Good boy. Brave dog…" I put him on the leash, carefully retrieved the knife, and we went home.

I was staggering. With the excitement over, what little strength I'd got abruptly failed. I had to stop once, leaning on a tree trunk, coughing till I retched. My vision went black round the edges. I murmured, "Sorry, Seb", and crouched down for a few minutes. Finally we made it back home. In the light, I noticed blood on the dog's muzzle, then saw some on my shirt. None of it was ours, so he'd obviously done some damage. Well, it served the little worm right. I did wonder, briefly, if someone would come after Seb – or rather, me – citing an out-of-control dog. It was too much for me to think about that night. We went back to bed.

* * *

Wednesday passed in much the same way. I felt very slightly better, I thought. I still couldn't speak, or eat, but I managed an hour or two of television before a headache stopped me.

It was mid-afternoon, and I was dozing in bed when I heard the door buzzer. I cursed under my breath and decided to ignore whoever it was. Then I heard keys in the lock. That certainly woke me up. My heart rate speeded up a bit too. Only two other people had keys to my place. Cecile was in France, so it had to be Eric.

Seb was sitting bolt upright, growling. I put a hand on his collar.

"Boss? You there?" Eric's voice, rather hoarse, but definitely him.

"Yeah, bedroom."

He came in, and Seb's growling increased.

Eric gestured to him. "You've got a bodyguard…"

I chuckled. "More than you know. Sshh, Seb… You know Eric…"

Eric approached him gently. He was better than me with animals. "Seb… It's okay, little man…" He put out a hand for him to sniff. Some recognition seemed to click, and the dog licked him and wagged his tail. Eric looked at me, "So how are you?"

"Pretty rough. I thought you were off sick too."

"I am, or was, but I'll go back tomorrow. I spoke to Cal – she told me you'd got it."

I noticed he looked… not pale – his olive skin precluded that – but sallow, and he had shadows under his eyes. "You shouldn't be here."

"I'm the one person who won't get infected. I thought you might need things doing."

"No, I'm surviving. It's only looking after Seb that's a bit awkward, since he hasn't learnt to use a toilet."

"Why are you looking after him?"

I explained the situation. "I hadn't got flu then. Do you fancy making me a cup of tea? Don't think I can stomach coffee yet."

He did so, and sat down near me. Seb jumped off the bed and onto Eric's knee. Fickle, that dog… We spent a childish few minutes competitively comparing symptoms, until Eric said, "Well, you're older than me," which shut me up. He grinned unkindly at my expression, then went back to stroking the dog. He looked closely at him. "Is that blood on him?"

"Could be. It's not his."

"Yours?"

"Hell, no! He bodyguarded me properly last night." I told him about the encounter with the youth, playing down how hopeless I'd been.

"Wow, what a dog! Tough for a little 'un."

"He is."

"I'll take a blood sample off him. See if we can find this guy."

"No point, brother. Nothing happened."

Eric looked disgusted. "At least let me go and frighten him a bit."

I shrugged. "If you want to. I've got his knife, and there's his blood on my shirt. And I'd be surprised if he hasn't taken his dog bites to a hospital. I hope I haven't been reported for having a dangerous dog."

"You're not dangerous, are you, Seb? Anyway, he threatened you with a knife!"

"Which he'll doubtless deny."

"You've got his knife? Leave it with me. I might stop him doing it to anyone else."

"Okay, but wait till I'm back. We'll go and frighten him together."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Chapter 5

Eric and I talked for a while, until it began to get dark outside. I realised I was beginning to feel better. Even my voice was coming back.

"So how long does it last, this flu?" I asked at last.

"Me? About three days, I suppose. This is the first time I've been out. I still feel a bit… you know, out of it." He smiled. "It might take you longer… seeing as you're older…"

"Oh, get lost!" I said. I don't like being reminded about the passing of time. Which is why he does it. "Joking…"

"I'm going soon anyway. I need an early night if I'm going to work tomorrow. Do you want me to take your dangerous dog out before I go?"

"Would you? Do you feel up to it?"

"Well, not for a five mile run. I could manage a short walk with him."

"Thank you." God, was I relieved! No getting up, getting dressed… "You'd better keep him on the leash. There's a long one in the kitchen."

Seb followed him eagerly. Eager to be out, poor little devil. I'd have to do better by him tomorrow. I got up to go to the bathroom. I toyed with the pill bottle, but decided I could do without.

* * *

Next morning, I felt better. Not _well_, but better than I had. I made Seb wait while I took a shower. I washed hair that was stiff with sweat, shaved off two days growth of stubble, and was liberal with mouthwash, talcum powder, and deodorant. Clean clothes, and I felt like a new man. My senses were returning to normal, and I realised how much the bedroom stank. Sweaty bed sheets, discarded wet clothes… I'd have to deal with them, but later. Seb was whining at the door.

After walking him, I managed coffee and a slice of toast, and began to wonder if I was up to driving the car. Probably, now rush-hour was over. I was taking things slowly - I still felt weak, and achy, but I didn't feel particularly feverish, and – thank goodness – I'd lost the constant urge to throw up whenever my head was off the pillow.

I looked at Seb. He was quietly pulling the stuffing out of a fluffy toy. Eviscerating it, I think you'd say. I knew he must be bored.

"Hey, Seb…" He looked up at me. "Do you want to go see some friends?"

I picked up his leash and he responded by bounding up to me, tail wagging, and sort of dancing on his hind legs. I wished I could muster that kind of energy, but I got the message loud and clear.

"You do, huh? Come on then…"

They didn't immediately recognise me at Furry Friends – in jeans, and t-shirt – but they recognised Seb.

"Hey, our little Casanova – we missed you!"

"Sorry," I apologised. "I'm sure he wanted to come. I've had this flu – I just couldn't get him here."

"Lieutenant… I hardly recognised you - you look different." I was used to this. I knew people often saw only my badge.

"I'm not at work today. But he's had quite enough of keeping me company. Is that all right?"

"Of course. The girls will be pleased."

"Is he really that bad?" I asked curiously.

"He's pretty keen, but he's quite a gentleman too."

"Good job he's neutered then." And again Seb disappeared eagerly into the premises, sniffing the air, tail wagging vigorously.

I gave myself an hour's rest, sitting on the balcony (which smelled only mildly of pee) before starting to clear up. I had zero energy – I had to do it in small doses. During one of my breaks, out of curiosity, I accessed Furry Friends' webcam service. I quickly found Seb. No, he wasn't doing what I had expected. Instead, eyes closed, and a rapt expression on his face, he was carefully licking the curly fur on the muzzle of a small white poodle. She (I hoped it was a 'she') appeared similarly enamored. I chuckled, and texted the link to Cecile. I hadn't told her that he'd missed two days. In fact, I hadn't spoken to her. I didn't want her to know I'd been ill – I don't know why. It's a quirk of mine, I admit, but it always felt like an admission of weakness. I _would_ tell her – possibly – when she got back. A bit ashamed of myself for spending time watching a room full of dogs, I switched the laptop off, and went to do the last job – swabbing the balcony floor.

I reckoned I deserved a rest then, and went to have a nap until it was time to collect my own furry friend.

* * *

On Friday, back at work, I was greeted by a grinning Eric. "You're in trouble."

"Me? What have I done?"

"No, you're not really. Your knife guy did go to a clinic. They persuaded him to make a 'dangerous dog' report. He obviously regretted agreeing, because he gave a false address."

"I doubt he's _got_ an address. So is it being investigated?"

"Nah! It's on file, but…" He shrugged. "Do you want to see the report? For a laugh?"

"It's not really a laugh. Was he badly hurt?"

"No idea. As I said, it hasn't been followed up, as far as I know. Anyway, he forgot to mention pulling a knife on you."

I followed Eric to a computer terminal, where he pulled up the report. It was brief, but it identified the correct area of the beach. Eric chuckled. "You see? You released this vicious dog on… Trey Purser – his real name… in a completely unprovoked attack."

I nodded. This wasn't exactly how I hoped to start today. "It's his real name?"

"Yeah, he's on file." He pulled up the record. "Is this the guy?"

"I think so. He had a hoodie on, but yes, that's him. He's twenty? I thought he was younger…"

"Drug offenses mostly."

"No address on file…"

"No, but I've matched his fingerprints on the pocket-knife. So if we can find him…"

"Change the investigating officer's name to mine."

"That'll raise eyebrows."

"No one'll challenge it – privilege of rank. Anyway, it saves someone in patrol taking it further. We'd better let them know. If anyone queries it – which they won't – just say it relates to another case."

"Okay. Do you want me to follow up? I'm not very busy."

"Yes, you can. Talk to the reporting officer, the clinic… just to see if there's any clue about an address. Don't spend too much time on it."

"Will do, boss."

It didn't matter that much, but I knew it would prey on my mind. I doubted anyone would make much attempt to find this Trey, there was nothing to identify me or Seb, and the report would disappear into the archives. But I wanted it withdrawn altogether. I didn't really want to hand Sébastien back to Cecile with a rap sheet, even an unsubstantiated one.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Chapter 6

Eric reported back to me at lunchtime. Apparently circumstances had overtaken Trey at the clinic.

"Officer Baker was already there, because they'd had a gunshot victim in. Then the nurse who was treating Trey got very indignant about the dog bites – she still is, indignant, I mean - and told him to make a report, while Baker was there. Which he did, with some reluctance."

"Are the bites bad?"

"You know, I didn't ask. This nurse was rattling on about out-of-control dogs and I didn't want to tell her about the knife, in case it somehow got back to the perp… Actually, I wanted to slap her – self-righteous cow!"

I raised my eyebrows. It was unlike Eric to be that offended by someone.

He continued, "The bad news is, Trey took off before completing any forms, so we haven't got a proper address. The good news is, he's supposed to go back this afternoon to have the dressings changed. Whether he will…"

I nodded. Why did I feel guilty, I wonder? "Do you want to go on with it? See if he turns up?"

"Definitely."

"Can you avoid slapping any nurses?"

"I expect so. I'd enjoy showing her he's a knife-wielding crack head, rather than a blameless victim, mind."

I smiled then. "She really upset you, huh?"

"She did." He didn't elaborate. I surmised his indignation was probably on my behalf – that she'd added something about irresponsible owners. But maybe she'd just rubbed him up the wrong way. I didn't really have doubts about Eric's professionalism.

I carried on with others tasks until he returned mid-afternoon.

"PD are bringing Trey Purser in," he announced.

"No problems?"

"He thinks we're pursuing his complaint." He gave a cynical laugh. "He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"What about the indignant nurse?"

He chuckled. "She was off-duty."

"Just as well."

"Probably. Anyway, I thought it was easier to get him in here before we confront him, so I played it sympathetic. Do you want to interview?"

"You start it. Show him the knife. See what his story is. I'll listen in."

I was conscious of not feeling… 'sharp'… sort of a bit unfocussed. I supposed it was the aftermath of flu. Consequently, I was happy enough to let Eric carry on with this. And happy for Trey to think we were on his side… for now.

* * *

I stood outside the interrogation room to watch. Trey had his back to me. I observed the same hoodie, stained and dirty, lank hair – he was either sleeping rough, or personal hygiene was low on his list of priorities…

Eric put the knife, in an evidence bag, on the table. "Do you recognise this?"

"It's mine. I dropped it." No hesitation. "Can I have it back?"

Eric put his hand over it. "Not yet. Evidence. Where did you drop it?"

"When that dog attacked me, I expect."

Eric nodded. "Describe the dog."

"White. Hairy. Like a dog."

"Big?"

Trey hesitated. "Not _big_… big."

"So middling?"

"I suppose." He fidgeted a bit.

"Tell you what," Eric said brightly. "We'll go and see our medical examiner in a minute. Show him the bites. He can measure them - probably say what sort of dog it was."

I smiled. It was like watching a cat play with a mouse. I almost felt sorry for Trey.

"Now, what about the man? The dog's owner?"

"I didn't get a good look," Trey muttered.

"No? That's a shame… If you want us to find him. Do you?"

"Of course! His dog half killed me! Look, my hand's all swollen. Do you want to see my leg?" He bent down.

"No, I don't want to see your unwashed body." Eric showed his first sign of impatience. "So think. What did he look like?"

"Tall. Said he had the flu. He coughed all over me – I suppose I'll catch it now. He was a ginger."

"Sorry?"

"A ginger. You know, he had red hair."

Eric's expression read 'Bingo!', but he said mildly, "Red hair? Well, that's fairly unusual."

I opened the door quietly and went in. I walked into Trey's line of vision and leant against the wall, careful that my badge and gun were on show. He looked at me. A hint of doubt showed in his face. His eyes went to my belt. In fact, they stayed there so long, I wondered if I hadn't zipped up. Then he looked back at my face, and I could see the wheels turning in his befuddled brain. He had the look of a druggie. His eyes and nose were red and moist. Either that, or he already had flu. He sniffed, wiped his nose on his sleeve, and recognition dawned. "Ohhhh….. ssshiiitttt…" He put his hands over his face.

Eric glanced at me with a satisfied grin. "Well, Trey?"

"I didn't know he was a cop."

Eric's demeanor changed abruptly. "It shouldn't make any difference, asshole! Now tell me what really happened."

If Trey had stuck to his story, there would have been nothing we could have done. Fortunately, he told it all. "I needed money… I didn't know he was a cop," he repeated.

When he'd finished, he said miserably, "Are you going to arrest me?"

I came and sat down at the table. "That depends. We could. Demanding money with menaces. Making a false report."

"It wasn't false."

"False by omission," I said.

"Eh?"

"You left the best bits out," Eric said.

"I didn't want to make it at all, but that nurse made me." He looked at me. "So what happens now?"

"What do you think, Officer?" I asked Eric.

"It's up to you, Lieutenant. You're the injured party. If we let him go, he'll only go and pull his knife on someone else."

"I won't. I swear I won't." Trey had heard the magic words 'let him go'…

I ignored him, speaking to Eric. "On the other hand, if we charge him… what do you reckon? Two or three years?"

"Could be…"

We should be so lucky. Probation was more likely. I pretended to consider the options. "Well, Trey, no one was hurt, as it happens. Except you, of course, and that would be seen as self-defense on my part. But we've got this report on file now…"

"Can I take it back?"

"I suppose we _could_ do that…" I made it sound like a big deal. I sighed. "What you need to do is write that down. Write that you didn't want to make the report, and you're withdrawing it. Sign it, and date it."

Eric gave him a piece of paper, and watched him slowly write down what I'd said.

"I'm doing what? Withdrawing it?"

"Correct. If that's what you want to do. No pressure."

He finished, and I took the paper from him. "Right, that should do. Eric, show him out."

"That's it?" He looked as if he couldn't believe his ears.

"It is, but I'll be watching you. Oh, I wouldn't come up to that end of the beach again. My dog won't forget you."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Chapter 7

I crumpled the piece of paper and threw it in the trash. It wasn't actually a big deal to remove that sort of report. Or at least to mark it as 'No further action' or something similar. I certainly had no urge to take it further.

When Eric came back, I said, "That was cruel."

"Not cruel enough."

"Reckon he'll stop?"

"Not a chance. Only until he needs his next fix. We'll only get him when he wounds or kills someone."

I knew he was right. It was a depressing part of the justice system, that something serious had to happen before it got involved.

"Did you record him?"

"Of course." He pulled the recorder from his pocket, extracted the tiny tape, and handed it to me. "What's the matter?"

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"You're tired… This flu really takes you down. Go home…"

"Yes, I think I will." I smiled at him. "Thanks for today."

I went home, collecting Seb on the way.

I had a sudden desire to talk to Cecile. We'd exchanged a few texts, but we hadn't spoken for days. But I checked the time difference, and realised she'd be asleep. I called her next morning.

* * *

"Bonjour?" She answered in French. I was surprised – even a little hurt – that my name didn't come up on her cell. Perhaps it didn't on international calls…

"Bonjour, Cecile, mon ami – _is_ it 'mon ami' to a lady?"

"Horatio! It's lovely to hear your voice! In answer, yes, it's still 'mon amie', because 'ma amie', the feminine, is too difficult to say."

"So, mon amie, how are you?"

"I'm well. You?"

"Fine." I was, now. More or less anyway. "So's Seb. He's in love."

She laughed. "The little poodle? I saw that. A little French lady, I think. He has good taste, my Sébastien." Then she sighed. "Oh, Horatio, I'm no good at families!"

"Why? What's happening?"

"Jacqueline veers between tears and anger. If I try to offer advice, she reminds me that I was divorced by her age. As if that makes my views less valid, not more. Several other family members have been offering their unhelpful opinions, or taking sides. Gigi's been phoning daily, upsetting her mother…"

"Gigi?"

"My granddaughter, Geneviève. We all call her Gigi. Anyway, I've resorted to the practical – the mortgage, the bank accounts and so on. I don't think I'm providing much comfort. I wish I was more empathetic."

I couldn't think of many people _more_ empathetic than Cecile, but I said, "Families are difficult."

"You don't say. I can't deal with all these emotional people. They're all so… French! I wish I was back in sunny Miami…" She hesitated. "I miss you."

"Me? Not Seb?" I teased.

"Well, both of you, of course. And I miss your practical common sense too. I'm hoping to leave next Thursday – that'll be Friday when I arrive."

"We'll be looking forward to seeing you."

"Is he there? Sébastien?"

"You want me to put him on the phone?"

"No! Idiote!" she laughed.

"He's in the kitchen, eating his breakfast. He's fine, Cecile. And, as it's Saturday morning – it is here, anyway – he'll get a long walk. Though he'll miss his girlfriend."

"You're not finding it a nuisance – looking after him?"

"Far from it. He's great."

"Ah, I always said you were a dog-lover at heart, Horatio." She sounded rather satisfied to be right.

"Maybe. _This_ dog…" I was tempted to tell her about his heroics, but thought it would be better waiting until she was home. Otherwise, she'd start worrying he'd been hurt. She might even worry about me… though probably not…

We talked for a little longer, then I packed a drink and some lunch in a backpack, and took Seb down to the car. I wasn't too sure about this 'long walk'. I still felt run down and weary. On the other hand, it was a beautiful day, and I was bored with the beach, which would, in any case, be busy today. I wanted somewhere peaceful.

* * *

I drove to the woods where we had walked before. Seb seemed quiet. I wondered what he was thinking – maybe that we'd walked here with his mom. I wondered if he was missing her. Once away from the road, I let him off the leash – I was sure of his loyalty to me now – and he scampered away to sniff at the trees and undergrowth. I walked slowly. We met no one. I had long ago concluded that South Florida didn't attract walkers. The more athletic types ran, or played volley-ball, or spent time in the sea, swimming and diving. The others sat in the sun and got fat. Or visited the bars and restaurants. And got fat. If anyone suggested walking, people thought of mosquitoes, heat, alligators… There was some excuse for the tourists, but I never really understood the residents. There were beautiful walks in the nearby areas. This was one of them.

Seb ran back towards me, carrying something. A baby squirrel – dead as a doornail, of course, but still warm. It was no good scolding him. He was only doing what terriers do, so I took his 'present' with thanks, and hoped he didn't bring any more. It was one of his less attractive traits. I waited until he wasn't looking, then tossed it into the bushes.

We walked for a couple of hours, and I was tired. We stopped by a stream for lunch – and a rest, which I needed, even if Seb didn't. I felt… I don't know… sad… well, maudlin, if I'm honest. The scenery was great. Even the temperature was pleasant, under the trees. Birds sang. And I was alone. Fifty-eight years old, and alone… except for a small dog, and even he didn't belong to me. I didn't know what was wrong with me. Normally I enjoyed solitude. I had to lay it at the door of having been ill. I suppose I still wasn't over it, and I hadn't eaten much for a week. I got out some sandwiches I'd made, and ate them without much enthusiasm. That brought Seb to my side, so he helped me finish them. I slipped his leash on, looped it round my wrist and settled back for a nap. No, I definitely wasn't myself!

He nudged me awake after about an hour. I freed him, but didn't immediately get up. I tossed a stick into the stream. Seb plunged into the water, but the stick floated by, ignored. I tried a few more times, both into the stream, and along the bank. That dog didn't have a clue. I resolved to try to teach him 'Fetch' before Cecile came back. I was suddenly reminded of my childhood friend; another terrier, Jackson. He would fetch anything and everything, and we had played it for hours at a time. But I didn't want to go there. Jackson had met a miserable end, and I'd only get more depressed if I thought about it.

I got to my feet and we headed briskly back. I was conscious of how much I was going to miss Sébastien. How much I didn't want to give him back.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Chapter 8

Life went on, as it usually does. I got busy at work. The residual effects of flu subsided. And Seb went to day-care.

I gathered, from talking to the staff at Furry Friends, that he'd got a new girlfriend.

"Not big on commitment then," I joked.

"Ah, his favorite – the poodle – isn't here this week. She only comes when her mom's out of town. Anyway, he's fallen for Maddie – a little pug."

I must have pulled a face – I didn't think I liked pugs – and they insisted on fetching her. She was rather cute – ridiculously curled tail, a worried face full of velvety wrinkles. I was getting disturbingly dog-loving…

Seb and I spent our evenings doing 'Fetch' exercises. He wasn't exactly difficult to teach, but I got the feeling he didn't really see the point. I changed from sticks to a ball. That was an improvement – he seemed to feel the ball would try to outwit him by bouncing, so he learned that a quick pick-up was best, before it got away. When we were indoors, he practised with a rolled-up pair of socks. I was proud of my dog-training, although I suspected he was an exceptionally easy pupil.

Cecile called me on Friday to say she was home, but very jet-lagged.

"You want me to keep Seb for now?" I asked.

"Just till tomorrow."

"I'll bring him over tomorrow afternoon then."

I wondered whether to bathe him, but he kept himself clean, and didn't really need it. Anyway, I wasn't sure how he'd behave under the shower. I wanted to do something 'special' for him, but couldn't think what. He had his new ball, but… I had a brainwave. A rummage in a drawer uncovered one of those miniature PD badges that we'd had made for a kids' project, a few years ago. Exactly like the real deal, but a third of the size. I clipped it to his collar. I reckoned he'd earned it.

"There you go, Officer…" I murmured. Yes, I was having conversations with him too.

On Saturday, I drove to Cecile's with very mixed feelings. I wanted to see her, but I kept glancing at my new little friend, sitting perkily on the passenger seat, thinking how quiet my home was going to be.

Cecile was so pleased to see us. We had a sort of three-way hug. "Oh, I've missed you both, so much!" She kissed me, then bent to pet Seb. The dog had missed her too. It was obvious from his nearly hysterical joy at being home.

It occurred to me then that a dog had no way of knowing that his parting from her hadn't been permanent. I felt suddenly honored that he'd quickly given me so much of his love and loyalty. While Seb seemed to be a sort of 'take life as it comes' dog, it still must have felt strange to be taken to a different home, to attend day-care, and the rest.

"What's that on his collar?" Cecile asked.

"Oh, he's an honorary member of MDPD. He earned it fairly and squarely."

She inspected the badge. "It suits you, little one." She looked up at me. "How did he earn it?"

"Let's have a coffee, and I'll tell you."

We sat drinking coffee, while Seb, unusually, perched on her lap, not mine.

"So tell me – what did he do? Did you take him to work?"

"No. He saved me from a knifeman."

"_Really?_"

"Really." I'd almost said 'he saved my life,' but that was a bit over-dramatic. "We were on the beach, late. This guy took me by surprise." I told her what he'd done, carefully leaving out how feeble I'd been. Made my own false report, you could say...

"Oh, Sébastien, what a brave dog!" She rubbed his head and ears, while he looked up adoringly. She looked at me. "Were you hurt?"

"No, neither of us. I don't know whether the guy intended to use the knife or not. A druggie – after money…"

"What happened to him?"

"He limped off, bleeding. So you see, Seb earned his badge. Oh, and I've taught him 'Fetch' – with a ball."

Cecile laughed. "I think you enjoyed having him."

"I did."

"You should get a dog of your own."

"No… I still work peculiar hours. I can't say he hasn't been happy in day-care, because he has, but it's not a long-term life for a dog, is it?"

"I don't know. It's only like sending a child to school. Good socialisation… You should talk to someone about it."

"I don't think so. Yes, I've enjoyed his company, and he hasn't been any trouble. And I shall miss him. I just don't think I'm in a position to give a dog what it needs."

"Perhaps when you retire."

I laughed. "Hey, that's still a few years off."

"I retired when I was the age you are now."

"You're self-employed, and anyway, you're not fully retired, are you?" I suspected I sounded snappy – I _had_ been snappy this week, or so Eric had intimated - and smiled tightly. "I'd be bored stiff without the job, you know that."

"I know. But I worry about you."

"Please don't." I was keen to change the subject. "Do you want to go out for dinner?"

"I don't want to leave Sébastien so soon. I was going to cook for you."

"Sounds good."

As she went to and from the kitchen, Seb seemed glued to her ankle. He clearly wasn't going to lose sight of his mom again.

"Do you want to take him outside before we eat?" she asked.

I looked down at the dog, who was sitting on her foot. "I don't think he'd approve of that. You take him. I'll watch the pots."

After dinner, we sat on the sofa and talked. Well, Cecile talked. About her family, about the far from pleasant two weeks she'd spent.

"I don't think I should have gone," she concluded.

"Well, you tried… If people don't want to be helped, you can't do much."

"There's no help to give. They've separated, they're going to divorce."

I sighed. "I'm sorry to sound unsympathetic, but it happens. All too often these days. I imagine they know their own minds. At least their daughter's not a child."

"She's nineteen!"

"You know what I mean."

It was her turn to sigh. "I do. And you're right. Oh well, I've done my duty. Let's talk about something else…"

"Just don't try and talk me into having a dog. Because I'll be tempted, and end up regretting it. That said, I'll have him whenever you want." I indicated Seb, who was curled up and snoring.

"All right. Do you have anything to do with police dogs?"

"We _use_ them. Amazing animals, but not pets. They only respond to their handlers – definitely not that friendly. The bloodhounds are really impressive. I wouldn't want one though."

"I was wondering…" She stroked Seb, who sleepily licked her hand. "Will he be… different? I mean… now he's attacked someone?"

"I don't see why he should. He seems friendly to everyone, unless he perceives a threat to his…" I almost said 'owner'. "…handler. So if anyone threatens you, and he's there, you'll be okay. I'd guarantee it."

"He's so small. He could get hurt." Cecile yawned suddenly. "Sorry. The body-clock still hasn't reset. I hate long-haul."

"Go to bed. I'll go."

She reached to turn my face towards her, and kissed me gently. "Will you stay? Mon cher ami…"

THE END


	9. Chapter 9

_A little epilogue to the main story, from Sébastien's point of view. It's been a very confusing time for a small dog._

THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Epilogue

It's been a strange two weeks. I believe in taking life as it comes – after all, what else can a dog do? Even so, it was all a bit of a shock.

First, my mom said goodbye to me. She was crying, just a bit. That was the first sign that she wasn't just going shopping or something. No, it was _me_ that was going. Somewhat confused, I followed Red down to his car. I wondered if I'd done something wrong. And I wondered where he was taking me. I had visions of the vet, or even the dog pound. I tried to take it philosophically. Oh well, it had been nice while it lasted. It wasn't the first time I'd lost what I thought was a good home. I was sad, but there was nothing I could do.

But he took me to his home. Perhaps he was going to be my new owner. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. He was always kind to me, though not as affectionate as my mom. It's not a dog's place to reason why - I'd make the best of it.

We had a good couple of days, walking, playing on the beach. He even let me sleep on his bed, and I began to relax. Maybe it would be all right. Then, I was in the car again and I was taken somewhere I'd never been. I felt betrayed. Lulled into a false sense of security. And yet… It didn't smell like the pound. I could hear a few dogs, but they were making happy sounds. No smell of fear, like you get at the vets. Even so, I wouldn't look at Red as I marched in. Chin up…

Well… It was a shock. A pleasant one! Lots of friends. No cages. Humans encouraging us to play. I met a gorgeous girl, too. She let me lick her and jump on her, and nobody told us off. And Red came back for me all too soon. Still, it certainly could be worse…

Then Red got sick. I knew he was. I could smell it on him. His skin was too hot, and he stayed in bed most of the time. It no longer felt as if he was an alpha, as if he could take charge. I didn't know what to do. I felt guilty when he got up to take me outside. I mean, I had to go out, but I sensed it was making him really sick. There was nothing I could do, so I just tried to keep quiet and give him some comfort. When he took me to the beach in the evening, I knew he was bad. I kept thinking, 'Don't die, don't die.' I mean, what would I do? Could I find help? He looked as if he couldn't stand up anymore.

I played, a bit half-heartedly. I brought him a crab I'd found, and he smiled at me. But the next time I came towards him, I saw the other man. Red was standing up, and the other man was too close to him. The smells were confusing. The man smelled bad, really bad. I could sense tension, and fear. Even from Red – who doesn't seem to do fear very much. My instincts took over and I flew at this man and bit him hard on the arm. Then the leg. Red didn't shout at me, so I assumed I was doing right. The man stumbled off and Red made a huge fuss of me. I was happy. We were better friends after that.

He got better, and I went back to what he called day-care. It was fun, and he always came back for me. He taught me a new game, with a ball. I couldn't quite see the point, but I enjoyed being with him, and pleasing him. Did I think about my mom? I did, but not all the time. It's a dog's nature to live in the present. And the present seemed good. Different, but good.

So when he put me in the car again, I wasn't worried. When we stopped, I knew straight away where we were. My mom's home! I dragged Red to her door, and he was laughing. Then my mom was hugging and petting me, and it was all how it used to be. I'm a dog. I don't ask questions!

We all three slept in the same bed that night. I wondered if it was going to stay like that. I'd like it to, but it won't be up to me.

THE END - REALLY


End file.
